


My Gears They Grind

by sleepypercy



Category: Supernatural
Genre: Blow Jobs, Car Sex, Frottage, Gift Fic, M/M, not really exhibitionism because moose don't count
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-12-31
Updated: 2013-12-31
Packaged: 2018-01-06 21:29:20
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,659
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1111722
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/sleepypercy/pseuds/sleepypercy
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Sam and Dean and a long road to nowhere. Sam decides its the perfect time to give his brother some road head. Dean only takes a little convincing.</p>
            </blockquote>





	My Gears They Grind

**Author's Note:**

  * For [KatStark](https://archiveofourown.org/users/KatStark/gifts).



Sam squints out the window and tries to bring the landscape into focus, knuckling at the corners of his eyes until the view sharpens. Outside it’s all wild grasses and cows, occasionally interrupted by barbed-wire fences and neatly-lined rows of crops. Sam has no idea what state they’re in, where they’re heading, or even what day of the week it is.  
  
It’s not a new thing, though, to wake up this way, peering out the car window and playing a quick mental game of _Where in the World is Sam Winchester_? More often than not he doesn’t bother trying to figure it out. It doesn’t really matter anyway; as long as he can look to his left and see his brother in the driver’s seat, constant as the North Star, Sam’s never actually lost.  
  
He thinks they’re up north somewhere, maybe Wisconsin, some place vaguely near the Great Lakes and a stone’s throw away from the Canadian border. The air here seems thicker somehow, more oxygenated, although it’s mixed in with the musky smell of livestock and sun-warmed hayfields.  
  
Sam runs a hand through his hair, the strands mussed from sleeping against the window. He doesn’t miss the way Dean darts a glance his way, clearing his throat in a tell-tale way that Sam’s intimately familiar with. Grinning to himself, he pretends not to notice the way Dean’s shifting in his seat or the way his fingers knead the steering wheel. A lifetime of studying his brother has made Sam an expert on Dean’s idiosyncrasies, especially the ones that slip out when his brother’s trying to hide something.  
  
“How long was I out for?” Sam asks, voice hoarse from sleep. He tries to swallow back the fuzzy coating on his tongue, thick like maple syrup mixed with sawdust. Dean’s bottle-green eyes lock onto Sam’s for a few seconds longer than usual since they seem to be the only people traveling this road. It’s strange for the highway to be empty at this time of day. The sun is directly above them, a bright circle in the sky that matches the blush-colored glass imprint on Sam’s temple. But Sam knows better than to question small favors, especially when Dean doesn’t seem worried, so he leans back and tries to enjoy the brief interlude between cases. With nothing ahead of them and nothing behind them, they’re not doing much of anything besides chasing the horizon.  
  
“A few hours,” Dean answers. “You were out pretty hard. It’s lucky you didn’t wake up with a devil goatee; I was about two minutes away from grabbing the magic marker outta the glove box.”  
  
Sam rolls his eyes, pressing his lips together in an exasperated bitch face as he thinks about giving Dean the standard rundown of threats about what would happen to his sorry ass if he ever tried that again. But his brother’s grinning in an honest, unreserved way that’s been rare lately, so Sam shakes his head as a smile creeps across his lips. “Bored, huh?” His hand casually slides against Dean’s leg, and he feels the muscles tighten beneath his palm. Dean throws him a quick, conflicted look. Sam knows how his brother’s mind works, is confident that Dean’s been half-hard for a good while now. A long stretch of open road and the vibrations of his Baby underneath his feet tend to get Dean to a low, simmering heat, ready to go with little more than a raised eyebrow from Sam.  
  
The first time Dean had made a move on Sam had actually been inside the Impala, pulled over on a lonely desert highway somewhere between Nevada and Arizona. And while Dean’s tongue had set out on a very serious mission to find every sensitive region on Sam’s body, Sam had lain back and wondered, with all the miles they’d travelled in their lives, why it had taken them so long to get here.  
  
Just looking at a roadmap can sometimes make Sam flush from the memories scattered between the mile markers – rest areas and underpasses and side roads where Dean’s had him bent over the hood or squished in the backseat or once, on a warm morning early enough to chance it, straddling Dean on the bench of a picnic table just off the Kansas freeway.  
  
Right now, Dean’s eyes are half-lidded as Sam’s hand rubs further inside his thigh, watching the sun slant through the window on Dean’s side. The gold light cuts across his face, highlighting freckles scattered like tiny dice imprints and shining off wet, dark-pink lips that Dean has a nervous habit of licking every five minutes.  
  
Sam wants Dean _now._ Wants to suck his brother off while the purr of Impala’s engine vibrates against his body and the passing highway rushes beneath his belly. Wants to get Dean worked up, compromised between the road and his brother, unable and unwilling to stop Sam from doing anything he wants. Sam’s hindbrain tries to rationalize away the danger. Dean’s a good driver, even on painkillers and with torn-open limbs, and he’s got an instinctive feel for the road, able to sense an oncoming car half a mile before it comes into view. Sooner if it’s a lawman.  
  
“How did you keep yourself entertained while I was out?” Sam muses, tugging on Dean’s belt buckle so he can unfasten the metal fittings. “Don’t even have the radio on.” And Dean looks ready to give some smartass answer, but Sam dips his hand inside his jeans before he has a chance and a soft moan punches through instead.  
  
When Sam feels how wet Dean is, he chuckles quietly, smug about having called it. There’s a large damp spot on the front of Dean’s boxers, his cock enthusiastically drooling out precome and making it pretty damn impossible for Sam to resist putting his mouth over the slick head.  
  
Since Sam can’t help being a tease, not when it comes to Dean, he holds off on swallowing Dean’s cock down right away. Instead, he lets a smile play at the edge of his lips as he brings his hand up and runs the pads of his shiny fingers across the tip of his tongue. Dean’s eyes obsessively track the movements, watching Sam swallow down the precome before he seems to suddenly remember the road and jerks the car back between the lines of the highway.  
  
Laughing softly, Sam unfastens his seatbelt and folds up his long body to fit in the small space, knees knocking painfully against the dashboard as he tries to tuck his feet under the seat and fit his torso across the bench. As he leans his head into Dean’s lap, his nimble fingers find their way to Dean’s zipper.  
  
“ _Sam_. _”_ Dean says his name like a warning, and Sam knows he’s struggling with the need to keep his baby brother safe against the need to get off. If his dripping cock is anything to go by, Dean’s probably been worked up for a good while now, possibly the entire time Sam was out. Ignoring his brother’s unnecessary worry, Sam lets his head drop down and noses at the crease on top of Dean’s thigh. His brother still smells like engine grease and motor oil from when he’d done a routine maintenance check on the Impala before they’d left Ohio, and Sam inhales that rich, familiar scent.  
  
He knows he’s won by the way Dean doesn’t do a damn thing to stop him as Sam unzips Dean’s jeans and pulls his dick out of his boxers. As soon as Sam’s hand touches Dean’s cock, thumbing around the wet head and pressing lightly into the slit, the car loses speed, starts to coast as Dean’s foot lets off the gas pedal. But Sam grabs onto his thigh with his other hand, fingers digging in hard as he growls “ _Keep going_ ” and Dean makes some half-strangled sound at the feel of Sam’s breath on his cock but immediately puts his foot back on the gas.  
  
Once Sam feels the speed pick up again, he flattens his tongue and runs it over the crown, smearing all that slick over the side and chasing it down with his mouth. He takes Dean in as deep as he can while his fingers wander down to his brother’s balls, rewarding Dean’s obedience with targeted flashes of tongue and teeth and nails right in Dean’s most responsive areas. He hears Dean suck in a sharp breath through his teeth just as his fingers latch into Sam’s hair. His grip is tight enough for that sting to register against Sam’s skull and slip down his spine, running in branched lightning _pleasurepain_ currents that settle hot and electric inside his cock. Sam shamelessly ruts against the seat, and his vibrating moan earns him another hand in his hair – a fleeting, desperate grip until Dean hurries to put that hand back on the wheel. He can feel the tension in Dean’s thighs as his brother struggles to keep his foot pressed down.  
  
“Fuck, Sammy,” Dean gasps out, punching his hips up. “Kinky bastard. Gonna get us killed.”  
  
When Sam chuckles, making the soft parts of his throat flutter around his brother’s dick, he hears Dean’s head thunk back into the seat. A second later, he feels the jerk of the car as his brother yanks it over to the side of the road, apparently deciding that it’s way past time to get off the highway.  
  
After throwing the car into park, Dean pulls Sam’s head off his crotch, thumb swiping at the shine on his lips as Sam grins darkly and meets Dean’s wide, dilated eyes. He half expects Dean to slam his head back down and make him finish sucking him off. Instead, Dean throws open his door and tumbles outside, wrestling his jeans and boxers off as he flies over to Sam’s side. The passenger-side door is yanked open with a sharp creak, and Dean reaches in to fist the front of Sam’s shirt, pulling him halfway out of the car so that Sam’s sitting on the edge of his seat with his feet on the ground.  
  
“Been thinking about this for hours,” Dean growls in confession as he fumbles Sam’s belt open and shoves his jeans and boxers down to his feet. Sam’s boots are still on, so everything’s bunched up at his ankles, and by the desperate way Dean’s moving, hands frantic and eyes wild, Sam wonders if his brother’s gonna try to flip him over and work him dry. He wonders how much he’d mind if Dean tried.  
  
Instead, Dean half-climbs onto his lap, straddling a thigh and shoving Sam’s legs apart as he wraps his arms around his younger brother’s shoulders and nuzzles into the side of his neck. He’s already panting against Sam’s skin, making him shiver as the humidity licks across all those fine hairs.  
  
“ _Dammit_ , you fucker, got me so hot, gotta feel you _now_ Sammy,” Dean babbles in a low voice behind Sam’s ear as he starts rutting against the meat of Sam’s thigh. His hips grind and rotate as he thrusts his dick against all that tight flesh. It’s not entirely comfortable, Dean’s hard prick digging into his leg, but _god, yes,_ Sam likes the hot, sharp ache of it, places his palms on Dean’s back so he can urge his brother to keep going, to move harder.  
  
Sam hasn’t had Dean rub off on him like this since those early days, back when this thing between them was new and fragile. Back when Sam was exhausted from prescient nightmares, and Dean was doing his best to hold his broken family together with safety pins and duct tape. Neither brother was sleeping very well, and before long one of them would cross the space between their beds to join the other, warm body sliding against warm body as hands and mouths roved with near-hysterical desperation. Sam was always the first to break, throwing his leg over Dean’s and grinding his hard-on against his brother until Dean did the same. They’d rock in matched rhythm, mouths getting sloppy until they panted their release against each other’s skin.  
  
“Yeah, that’s it,” Sam encourages while Dean makes hitched mewls into the tendons of his neck, too far gone for any semblance of finesse. But Sam likes Dean best this way, stripped bare of all that swagger and show, gutted like a skeleton house with its studs left raw and exposed. “Feels good, right? Gonna ride my thigh until you come all over me? Mess me up? That what you need, Dean?”  
  
Dean’s mouth clamps over a spot on Sam’s neck, drawing flesh behind his teeth and sucking in hard. Sam feels his dick twitch, precome blurting out the slit and hitting his stomach when Dean lurches forward again. Every so often, Dean’s knee bumps into Sam’s crotch, and he jolts at the feel, needing something more substantial on his cock but unwilling to let Dean go long enough to get a hand on himself.  
  
He can feel the hot smear of precome and spit making the slide of Dean’s dick a little easier, feels Dean start to tense up, riding him more urgently. A full-body shudder goes through Sam as the needs of his own cock suddenly turn more demanding, the ache in his balls becoming harder to ignore. So he holds Dean with one arm and manages to shove a hand down, pumping his bare dick frantically while Dean growls out an orgasm into his shoulder, cock spurting out against Sam’s leg in thick strands that slide over the curve of Sam’s thigh and drip down into the bare ground below them.  
  
When Dean’s turned rag-doll boneless, Sam adjusts his arm to keep Dean upright while he fucks his cock into the tunnel of his hand, jolting Dean a little on his knee while his muscles tense. When he’s on the edge, he feels Dean turn his head a little and press his mouth back onto his neck. He starts sucking a wet bruise into his favorite spot, right where he can peel Sam’s collar to the side tomorrow to admire his handiwork and trace the skin worn purple and blue. Dean’s hand wanders down to rest on the muscles of Sam’s abdomen, pinky finger brushing the skin on his pelvis, just as he moves his mouth off of Sam’s skin to encourage, “Fuck, Sammy, c’mon. That’s it, wanna see you come. So fuckin’ hot.”  
  
And Sam’s just gone, punched open like a Roman candle, the hot tingles of his orgasm bursting through his nerves and numbing the tips of his toes as come shoots up his stomach and splatters across his brother’s knuckles. While Sam’s still flexing his toes and coming down from the high, Dean moves his mouth up his neck and across his cheek, putting both hands behind Sam’s jaw so he can work slow and lazy right into his brother’s mouth. After a few minutes, Dean pulls back and sighs contentedly while Sam grips him more firmly around his back and grins, mind catching up with things now that he’s able to think with his upstairs brain again. Dean’s eyes narrow when he catches sight of Sam’s smirk.  
  
“Shut up.”  
  
“Exhibitionist,” Sam accuses fondly, refusing to let go when Dean starts trying to push himself off Sam’s leg. A soft snort sounds through Dean’s nose.  
  
“Damn road’s been empty for the past hour. Nobody around to see us but the moose.”  
  
Sam sends a quick look behind his brother, out into the wild ground where several beasts have their heads down, grazing sleepily and overall paying them no mind. He snorts and shakes his head.  
  
“…Dean, those are bison. _American buffalo_.”  
  
“Well…” Dean throws a contemplative look over his shoulder at the hairy, horned mass of animals snuffing the ground. He turns back to Sam with an amused grin and shrugs. “You would know.”

**Author's Note:**

> Feel more than free to leave feedback/comments!


End file.
